Rain
by Raven16
Summary: Reflections from "Pollo Loco," Max's dark thoughts as she stares out the window near the end, watching the rain. Sever angst.


Rain  
by Raven  
Disclaimer: Dark Angel belongs to James Cameron and Charles Eglee. I don't own any of these wonderful characters, nor will I ever. Please don't sue me, I'm only writing this story out of fan respect.   
This story is copyright ME, Raven. You pretend it's yours, I'll come after you. I work hard on my writing, don't take it away.  
Archive: Yes, but tell me where you're putting it and PLEASE wait for my reply!!! I'll say yes, believe me.  
Summary: Reflections from last night's heartbreaking episode (the title has slipped my mind), what Max is thinking while she's staring out at the rain near the end. SEVERE angst!! R/R, pleease.  
Warnings: none...  
Spoilers: Lots.  
Rating: PG-13 for possible language and some violent images.  
Feedback: Oh, yes yes yes!! Poisonlollypop@aol.com  
Notes: I can't remember whether it was Ben or another one having the seizures in bed. I don't think it was, but I could be wrong, so I'm using someone else.  
I made up half the names of the Chimeras as used later.  
I wrote this in about.. an hour, forgive any spelling or punctuation errors.  
I want to thank all you guys for reviewing my previous story, "Cause and Effect." You should see me; whenever I get a new review I get all excited and start jumping up and down with joy. This piece is to tide you people over until I come out with the sequel, which I will soon because so many people gave me feedback and wanted one. Thank you again!!!! It gives me confidence to keep writing.  
  
  
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~  
  
Rain  
by Raven  
  
Pitter, patter. Pitter, patter.  
  
I stare blankly out the window at the rain. I've been doing so for the past two hours. I can't think about anything but Ben and my past... those horrible times I tried so hard to forget. They've come back to haunt me, like I always knew they would. I just didn't expect them to return in the shape of a friend.  
  
Ben was always the entertainer in our squadron. I smile a bit as I remember his shadow puppet shows and his stories. We rarely slept, preferring instead to daydream the long nights away listening to tales spun straight from Ben's imagination. Some were awful, like when he described what happened to the ones who disappeared. We listened, transfixed, as he told us of the horrors lurking in the basement.  
  
Other times, he would talk of better places. Destinations we could never reach. Where there were flowers and grass and trees. Blue skies and laughter. Things we had heard about but rarely seen.  
  
Then that one night, during Chris's bout of seizures, a new figure was introduced into our lives. The cleaning man gave Chris the picture of a heavenly goddess. The Blue Lady, we called her, because of her gown.  
  
She was lovely. Her tranquil expression and glowing heart gave us comfort when we could find it nowhere else. The man had told Chris to pray to her, and so we all did. Getting down on our knees in respect for our deity, we gave her all our faith.  
  
The introduction of the Blue Lady brought on a new set of stories from Ben. He was the most orthodox of us all, praying to her whenever he could, even during training, under his breath. At night he would tell us all the things we could do to make our Lady stronger. Our teeth would reinforce her heart and keep it shining for all time. When drunk like wine, our blood would prove our devotion to her.  
  
These things we did. All of us believed Ben. He was convinced of the good place, where no one was punished, no one was yelled at, and no one was forced to obey. We even went so far as to climb up on the roof of our quarters and offer teeth wrapped in cloth to our Lady.  
  
I slip back into reality momentarily as I become aware of Logan's eyes on my back. He's been watching me for almost as long as I've been in this position. I know he's waiting. But I'm not ready to talk. I need to dwell some more on my memories.  
  
Pitter, patter.  
  
When I realized that Ben had been the one killing those people, I didn't want to accept it. Yet I knew... on that day in the woods, when we saw the bleeding heart tattooed on our victim's chest, Ben was the first to attack. With a vengeance, he ripped and tore at the man's flesh until the drawing was gone and the real heart showed through, beating convulsively and spurting blood.  
  
I remember wishing I could stop, knowing it was wrong. We were only ordered to take the man down, not murder him. But my red-stained hands and the metallic smell in the air drove my senses wild, filling me with animalistic urges... the taste of blood on my tongue... I shudder at the images that flicker through my head. It frightened me so incredibly...  
  
When Lydecker approached us later to survey our work, we could see the utter shock register on his stoic features. Even he was disturbed by what we'd done. Lying in bed that night, I could think of nothing else but the man's tortured screams as they echoed through the woods.  
  
The Blue Lady had watched me from her position on our table that served as an altar. Her expression hadn't changed, but I could sense that she was appalled at me. I mumbled prayer after prayer into my bedsheets, begging for her forgiveness over and over again.  
  
Rain had fallen that night. Pitter, patter.   
  
It wasn't long after that we escaped. I remember that night, too. Ben stood by our altar, motioning us to come near. Zack, Bryn, Jondy, Tinga, Zane, Eva, Jace, Chris, Krit, Syl and I gathered around him and we all said our goodbyes to the Blue Lady.   
  
I believe our faith in her was one of the reasons so many of us escaped. We didn't want to fail her.  
  
I'd never gone to church until a few days ago. I found out during my travels that our Blue Lady existed, but did not go by the name we had given her. She was Mary, the mother of Jesus. I saw a statue of her once. Even the inscription on the bottom that used her real name didn't faze me. She was still the Blue Lady in my eyes.  
  
I suppose most of us let go of her eventually, having much more important things in our lives to do than pray to an imaginary guardian. I believed in her for a long time as our personal angel, but even I lost conviction during my time on the run.  
  
But Ben's faith lasted until his demise. I shut my eyes momentarily, not wanting to remember what I just did but knowing i have to.  
  
I shouldn't have broken his leg. He let me, he could have blocked it. He knew I was about to kick him. And he also knew that he wouldn't die any other way.  
  
Oh, Ben... he wanted to die. My words had finally hit a soft spot in him and he realized the awful things he'd done. He wanted to die.   
  
The feeling... holding him in my arms while he told me again of the good place, the story I knew by heart but hadn't heard in years.. cut short by the sound of cracking vertebrae as I snapped his neck.  
  
I sobbed continuously as I ran away, not caring about the way tears fell like rivers down each side of my face. And when I had no tears left inside to shed, the rain began to fall, pattering my cheeks with drops as a substitute. Pitter, patter.   
  
Logan knew I'd been crying when I walked in. Even the rain couldn't hide that from him. He obviously had a million questions, but he saw I was okay and left me alone.   
  
I took the longest shower I've ever had. Scalding hot water, burning my skin as I took the soap and scrubbed. Washing away the blood, the sweat. Washing away the the urge and the instinct to inflict pain. The sorrow and the pity and the anger, everything, all down the drain. I scrubbed until my skin was raw and red from the mixture of hot water and coarse soap.  
  
And now, I stand by the window, watching as the rain continues to fall. My fingers trace the drops down the pane. Tears tumbling like echoes in the wind, shattering on the ground, a million every second. Tears shed by everyone who's ever had faith and been corrupted. Who has lost a loved one. Who has hurt. Who has killed.  
  
Logan is waiting to talk to me, but I'm not sure if I'll be able to. He knows Ben is gone, but does he know how? What will his reaction be when I tell him I killed my own brother? His faith in me will be destroyed.   
  
What does it matter, anyway? All I care about right now is this rain. The silence allowing me to hear it on the window and the ground. Pitter, patter. I can close my eyes and remember anything I want, from joyous times or times of grief. And yet, still I choose to recall my memories of Ben.   
  
I'm sorry, dear brother. It was for the best. Glancing up, I send my final prayer in the Blue Lady's direction; a prayer for Ben.  
  
There is no sound of a reply.  
  
Just the rain. It'll be falling for a while.  
  
Pitter, patter.   
  
  
~~~~~  
  
What did you guys think?  
Poisonlollypop@aol.com  
  



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